Prophecy of the Most Beautiful (11 page)

She shook her head. "I'm so confused." She began to massage her temples, which had been incessant in their throbbing for the past few minutes.

L.A. stopped playing. "Head hurt?" She nodded. He winked at her. "How about now?"

Chloe dropped her hands. "Uh, it's––it's gone." She couldn't believe it. The pain had vanished just like that. "Are you like the god of no-more-headaches or something, too?" L.A. only smiled at the joke, but did not confirm nor deny anything, just resumed his soft playing with Euterpe accompanying him in perfect harmony.

"So does all of this mean that you're...
immortal
or something?" Chloe asked. She was skeptical of the answer and really wanted her medication right then. Even though it didn't work, there was something comforting about swallowing those little white pills every morning and night. Like keeping alive her belief that there was indeed a cure for her crazy. They just hadn't found it yet.

L.A. grunted. "I would like to think of myself as several steps up from a boring immortal." He looked disgusted by the sheer idea of it. "But, nevertheless, you've got the right idea. Gods are immortals, yes. But I think you'll find that we're a bit more complicated than that. But don't worry about it just yet." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then changed the subject. "I hope you're a fan of sunlight."

She thought of spring and track season. "I love the sun…", and he looked pleased. She shook her head with disbelief. "Is this all for real though? I mean, this isn't just some really well-planned joke, is it?"

L.A. smiled, but not with amusement. "The last thing you should ever consider all of this to be is a joke. A guardian
died
protecting you. There's nothing funny about that. Never forget it."

Never forget.
That's what she was afraid of. That she would never forget watching Summer Pinot die. Or that Ker demon. Or that any of this was happening right now.

She closed her eyes for a long minute. She could be honest with herself and say that she was starting to sense that this
was
some kind of alternate reality and the sooner she accepted that, the better. She was more curious about L.A.––or Apollo, whatever––than anything. She was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. This wasn't a dream. She had really met a man who turned out to be a Greek god, the Sun god, a deity who did things she thought could only be done in the movies via computer-generated imagery. How could she not believe it all? She'd seen it with her own eyes, hadn't she? He was her favorite rock star for pete's sake! That alone was tempting her to want to know more.

But what about going home? She could still do that, she thought. But besides her family, what else was there for her in Adel? Five months of special education classes? More psychotherapy? More useless medication? She almost felt relief at the prospect of never going back. But then again, she also felt like a magnetic force inside was the only thing keeping her from running out and finding the nearest police officer who could help her get back to Adel. But she couldn't. She needed to learn more about this man, rock star,
god
, and what an Oracle was first. Deep down, she
wanted
to know more. She had been chosen for it right? She had
wished
for this, hadn't she? She could stay just a little while longer, and
then
she would go home……

When her eyes finally opened, she took a deep breath and said, "So what if I said I believed all of this? What would happen then?"

L.A.'s eyes narrowed with curiosity. He stopped playing again. "Do you finally believe, Chloe?" He asked.

"I might," She said, not willing to concede so easily. "Tell me though, how does this all work?"

"Does this mean you accept?" L.A. asked her instead. It was clear he meant for her to answer his question first.

"Do I have a choice?" Chloe couldn't pretend that this still didn't feel a little bit like a hostage situation.

L.A. chuckled. "Why, of course you do, kid! Life is all about choices and decisions. You make good ones, positive things happen for you. Make bad ones, you suffer for them. Isn't that what life is all about?"

But there was something about the way he said this that made Chloe feel like in truth, she didn't have a choice whatsoever. She was here, wasn't she? They had gone through all of the trouble of taking her away from her home and family for this. They could've just taken her to the Memorial hospital in Adel, or better yet,
home
, but they didn't. She would be foolish to think that they would just let her walk out, even if L.A. did claim that it was her decision. Chloe had never considered herself to be foolish even if she wasn't the most mentally sound person she knew. Leaving on her own terms was simply not an option……

"I accept," Chloe said, getting a sense of her back slamming up against the wall.
Bam!

"Out, you three," L.A. ordered the Daughters, finally setting his guitar aside. Thaleia gave Chloe a kiss on the cheek before she skipped off of the bus, or whatever this place was pretending to be, Euterpe smiled and dashed after her, and Mel grumbled about her nap being disturbed. She heard the noisy crowd outside, then a door closed behind them.

"Give me your hand," L.A. commanded Chloe and Ace shifted on his ottoman. He took a huge bite out of apple number five. Chloe was worried about what L.A. planned to do to her, as if it mattered. She had accepted, she had made her choice to stay and there was no turning back now. Even she knew that.

She extended her arm.

L.A. took her hand and sandwiched it between both of his. One of his hands was tattooed with a raven. It was one of his most loved tattoos, the magazines had said, because ravens were one of his favorite animals. She wondered now if there was a reason why.

"This might hurt a little, kid." He closed his eyes and muttered something in a foreign language she didn't understand.

And then Chloe felt a jolt of adrenaline and power surge through her like she had just been electrocuted. She tried to scream, but nothing came out of her mouth. Her mind went blank, as if it had just been erased. She couldn't remember where she was. She couldn't even remember
who
she was. Her mind was like a chalkboard that had just been wiped clean. All files of memory had been erased. Delete, delete, delete...

But then she saw her family and remembered them: Beth, red haired and beautiful; and Benjy, eight and skinny. She saw Smurfey and her school, the city she had lived in, Adel, and then she saw her house, small and bricked only in the front. Then foreign words, names, dates and images started moving through her mind so fast she was surprised she could make any of them out. She thought she saw images of animals and a few angelic faces, and maybe even once a castle or two, which changed into ancient ruins, then a giant with one eye…a brutal battle…a flying pig…a fire-breathing lion…a garden where the fruit grew gold…

She felt like her mind was being programmed, for what, she didn't know. It was almost like the images were being uploaded into her memory from an outside source––like making a copy of a hard drive.

And then, she heard a voice start to chant in her head. It was her own voice, she could tell. But it was her years from now, in some future she couldn't comprehend. She wasn't sure how she recognized it, but she did, and her lovely, mature voice said to her:

Beautiful, beautiful, this one must be saved

From a love that is dark, and a heart that's enslaved.

There will be no faint of heart on the road to be braved

For the faint of heart will surely see an early grave

Beautiful, Beautiful, whose heart must be freed

From a battle of centuries and copious measures of greed

The most beautiful heart will sacrifice for one to succeed

For undone, it is written, the two will never concede.

Finally!
The cynical voice in her head exclaimed, after keeping silent for so long,
I was beginning to wonder if we had given you the wrong string...

Hooray for the new Oracle of Delphi!
The giggly one squealed,
This is so exciting!

Yes dear, it is very exciting indeed,
The mothering voice said,
You have accepted. You believe in us. Now our real work can begin
.

Everything was a blur in front of Chloe. She couldn't even make out her surroundings. Was she still with Ace? Where was L.A.? She could not hear or see them. She was so dizzy the world around her looked like a kindergartener's finger painting. Her pulse was racing and her head was pounding and just to think made the pain worse.

What do you mean I believe in you?
She questioned, her weakened mind barely able to form the words.
What's happening to me? Who are you?

Well, have you not figured it out yet, dear?
There was a soft chuckle.
We are the Fates.

Chloe blacked out.

*****

IX. Chloe

She was back in the room again.

The one she had woken up in before when she had realized that life had begun playing dirty, dirty tricks on her.

Her eyes fluttered to adjust to seeing again. How long had she been out for? Hours? Days? Weeks? Maybe even months this time?

She felt clean and washed. Someone had changed her clothes and brushed her new, beautiful hair. She figured it was one of those sparkly girls. Obviously, a lot of time had passed and she was scared of how much.

She remembered everything. She remembered meeting the greek god, Apollo. A greek god, who turned out to be her favorite rockstar, L.A.

Real or not?

Real, she was pretty freaking sure of it.

He had told her she was the Oracle of Delphi. Her mind was a vessel through which she could prophesy the future. It was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard, yet, she had found herself believing every single word of it.

She remembered hearing a voice inside of her head. Her older self, years from now. She had been chanting something, a rhyme or poem, something about being beautiful…

And then there were the other voices. The last ones she had heard before blacking out.

They had called themselves the Fates.

Apollo had called them "goddesses of destiny", but that couldn't be true. They had been in her head for years, so how could they be goddesses at all?

Staring up at the vaulted ceiling, she took a slow, deep breath, realization kicking in.

Three Greek goddesses live in my head.

Woah.

A bird squawking scared her right out of the trance of her new learned truth. Letting out a squawk of her own, she flung herself against the headboard, gripping her chest in fear.

She found Ace and another teenaged boy sitting in the corner of the room, chill as ever, watching her.

"Sorry about that," The unfamiliar boy said in a thick, rich accent, gesturing to the hawk that was perched on his shoulder. "Bill gets antsy when it's quiet for too long."

She swallowed hard and breathed deep to still her racing heart. "What kind of name is that for a bird?"

The boy shrugged. "It fits him. He's such a middle-aged man sometimes." Bill seemed to understand the reference and squawked. The boy laughed and gave him a piece of beef jerky as a peace offering. Bill accepted with a flutter of his wings.

The boy was pretty good-looking with a head full of natural black ringlets, deep brown eyes, smooth latte colored skin and full lips. He was about Ace's height but leaner, with the long limbs of an athlete. He was wearing an
Artful Dodger
tee with all kinds of colorful slogans designed into it and a pair of pretty awesome cargo pants that were cinched at the ankle, leaving his brown suede
Converse
kicks exposed. She loved the look. Urban wear was kind of her thing and she needed one of those graphic tees, like, right away.

Bill was a tawny brown bird with specks of white about his wings and head, smooth feathers, and eyes of coal. His talons looked like they could pierce metal and there was no doubt in her mind that one snap of his beak could sever a finger. She would make sure to try to never get on the hawk's bad side.

"Name's Lenka," The boy said.

"Lenka," She repeated, "Nice name. Where is it from?"

He smiled. "South Africa, my birthplace. It means 'Taker'." He and Ace shared a look and grinned like cats. "But nobody calls me that. Everyone knows me as
Swindle
."

She smiled. "Okay, Swindle. South Africa, huh? That would explain why your accent is so freaking beautiful." Swindle ducked his head a bit and thanked her.

"Oye! My accent is pretty frickin’ nice, too," Ace said, pretending to pout. He was back to his tee and jeans with yet another pair of awesome skate shoes.

She laughed. "You're right. It is. Where are you from?"

He smiled. "Ireland. Me and Strafford both."

Irish. How yummy.
"I had guessed British."

The boys groaned. "Never call an Irishman a bloody Anglo, 'less you're lookin' to end up in a row, know wha' I mean?" Ace said. He boxed the air a few times.

"Irish. British. Never get them mixed up. Got it."

Satisfied, Ace said, "You've been in another
koma
for almost two days now." He moved to sit on the edge of the bed and beat against the bed post with a pair of drumsticks. "How you feelin'? Do I need to get Dr. Life?"

She shook her head and pushed at her temples. "I'm fine. I just feel like I'm holding up a head full of rocks."

He laughed. "Tha's the Knowledge. Three thousand years worth of it, actually."

"What?"

"Tha's how old the gods are, tha's how much history there is, tha's the depth of knowledge you have now. He gave it to you. You know…right before the
koma
won out..."